


you'd be like heaven to touch

by rain_at_dawn



Series: stars, scattered [19]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Band Fic, Fluff, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, very mild sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_at_dawn/pseuds/rain_at_dawn
Summary: And if it's quite alrightI need you, baby
Relationships: Choi Minho/Lee Jinki | Onew
Series: stars, scattered [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608877
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	you'd be like heaven to touch

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my Onho feels after their recent reunion.
> 
> The title comes from 'Can't Take My Eyes off You' by Frankie Valli

“Hyung?”

Until that very second, the night had been a quiet one and it still is. Minho’s questioning, slightly awkward tone is just a touch above a murmur; the sight of him at the entrance to Jinki’s bedroom, freshly showered and in a clean set of football shorts and a t-shirt, is almost the spitting image of a memory from more than ten years ago. Back then, Jinki had been lonelier.

Minho had been nineteen then, wide-eyed and hesitant when asking if Jinki was hungry. It was code for ‘are you okay?’, a question Jinki had never been up to answering. In the time since, Minho had proven to be a fast study, learning to pick on each dip in Jinki’s mood, even through the very smallest tells. Jinki, on the other hand, had never needed to be as quick in picking up on Minho’s shifts in temperament; Minho could always spare the words – and time – to let him know instead.

It’s a failing Jinki still holds against himself, for never pulling his own weight behind the emotional labor Minho put into their… ‘relationship’ feels like such a hollow, trite little term. Jinki decides not to dwell on it; if he really could come up with the right words, there still wouldn’t be enough of them and barely enough hours in a night to last the depth of what he felt for the man who stood barely a few feet away from him.

“Hyung…” Minho tries again. He doesn’t go on to ask if Jinki’s hungry, but Jinki does have an answer to that. He shuffles slightly towards the side of his bed that’s pushed against the wall and makes sure to leave enough space for Minho to climb in once he’s crossed the space between them. The lights are already turned off. They have been for a while, but the city lights filtered across the view from the bedroom window are effusive enough.

Minho is on his side, facing him. It’s been hours since Jinki had taken out his contact lenses, but Minho’s eyes are bright, irregardless. Irregardless of the dark, Jinki realizes, irregardless of anything. Everything.

“I missed you, Jinki.”

With the ‘hyung’ dropped, Jinki’s heart seems to let go of whatever had tethered it to the cage of self-imposed doubt it had built up over the years. He feels it fly up his chest and stop short at the back of his throat.

“I missed you so much.” Minho’s voice cracks just a fraction; Jinki had always wondered at his sense of composure, always flaring up when it was least required. “You can’t imagine…”

Jinki can’t. But Jinki can guess.

He opens up to Minho, arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer. He’s gotten used to hugging Minho by now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten to Minho in the barest sense of the word. For a moment, it’s quite enough to have the world in his embrace, to feel its warmth and stillness beneath his hands. 

And then it’s too much.

Then, not enough at all.

Jinki could coax Minho into talking more, fill him up with more words until his heart bursts right out of his chest. But Jinki could also take the initiative for a change, put his own mouth to good use.

This is the first time he’s ever kissed Minho. He’s never planned for it, even if he has dreamt of it, whether it was late at night or in the early hours of dawn, and during the hours in-between. Minho’s lips are surprisingly smooth against his, and eager. Once turns into thrice so easily that Jinki wonders if he hasn’t been the only one dreaming.

Minho’s eyes are brighter now, a gleaming two-star constellation that holds nothing but answers. When the kiss resumes after a breath, it comes with tongue and wandering hands that grip Jinki’s upper arms. He decides to indulge Minho further by taking off his shirt, followed by Minho’s, and then the damn football shorts. There’s not much to hold back on any longer.

Minho’s skin is warm to touch, always has been. Minho’s breaths are low and uneven, caught between laughter and groans, pure, primal instincts. Minho’s body practically surges towards Jinki, a flow of long limbs and a constant stream of ‘Jinki, Jinki, _Jinki_ ’; Jinki hears all of it and sees all of it and feels all of it, everything that really matters in his world.

“Minho.” He replies, plain and true. Minho it is. Minho and the world, not so much different from each other in Jinki’s eyes.

They move together, mostly fumbling, but together nonetheless. They rut together in earnest, Minho’s legs wound so tight around Jinki that his thighs tremble, while Jinki licks and sucks on his neck. Each moan that escapes Minho turns honeyed on Jinki’s lips as he tastes the vibrato from Minho’s throat on his tongue.

Minho begs for more like he never has before, the most he’s ever asked from Jinki.

Jinki gives in; Minho can have all of him.

* * *

As the sun rises, Minho’s still asleep, thoroughly worn out from Jinki’s efforts. Winter has settled in for a while since his return and the mornings will grow colder in due time. It’s at least warmer in the dorm; Jinki hopes it stays that way for far longer beyond the season. He’s been awake for a while now, long past dreaming.

There are plans to make: for birthday presents and dinner with their parents and get-togethers with all their friends. There might even be a tree to get and definitely some mistletoe, and maybe a cat or a dog or a pet goldfish in a bowl, or all three if neither of them could decide on which one to keep. If so, there would be a new house to move into; someplace quiet and modest, with a big enough garden for all of them and the guests they were sure to have on a particular day.

In a year, Jinki will buy a ring. 


End file.
